Harry Potter: I am the Legend

Hoffa and the two unfamiliar German wizards stood together on a narrow reef, barely half a meter apart. They could clearly hear each other's breathing. Both sides radiated open hostility, yet neither dared to make the first move, adopting highly defensive stances.

The two black-robed wizards were in bad shape, their pale faces grim. They leaned on each other for support, their robes burned through in several places by the acid spat by the insects.

Hoffa wasn't much better off. He was soaked to the bone, clutching a dried shell—the best weapon he could find under the circumstances.

Holding the shell, he faced off against the two wizards, one on each side of the reef.

"Get off!" Hoffa barked.

"The one who should leave is you, Bach. We're two against one," said the red-haired wizard.

"Anker, stop wasting words. Just finish him off," the blond wizard muttered weakly.

"You might want to deal with the bug on you first," Hoffa retorted sarcastically.

The blond wizard's face turned ghostly white at those words. He jumped half a meter into the air, frantically patting himself down. "A bug?! Where?! Where is it?!"

Not satisfied with his own search, he grabbed his companion desperately. "Anker, do you see a bug on me?!"

Anker ignored him, his gaze fixed on Hoffa.

Hoffa, feigning concern, pointed out, "It's behind your ear."

The blond wizard reached behind his ear and pulled out a finger-length, red-and-green caterpillar. He let out a high-pitched scream that echoed across the reef before collapsing unconscious.

Hoffa was stunned. He hadn't expected his offhand mockery to reveal the towering man's deep-seated fear of insects.

"Hey, Aldo, are you a damn woman?" the red-haired wizard snapped.

Anker's face darkened. He kicked his unconscious companion but got no response. Without a word, he retreated to the edge of the reef.

"Looks like it's just you now," Hoffa said slowly.

Anker snorted, sat cross-legged, and stopped responding.

Hoffa lowered the shell and sat as well, beginning to meditate.

He had only been bluffing. Even one-on-one, without magic, the red-haired wizard still had the advantage of physical strength. Fortunately, his opponent hesitated, fearing Hoffa might have some hidden trump card.

Meditation seemed the safest approach—whoever regained their magic first would control the situation.

An hour passed, then two. Night fell, and the moon rose high. The tide surged, gradually submerging the reef. The giant carnivorous insects on the shore abandoned their hunt and disappeared silently into the dark forest.

Hoffa and the red-haired wizard meditated in silence while the blond wizard, still unconscious, began to stir. Despite the time, neither of them showed any sign of recovering their magic.

Under the moonlight, all three of them looked grim.

A crab emerged from a crevice in the reef, scuttled over Hoffa's pant leg, wandered between the two wizards, and leaped into the sea.

"Can you use your magic yet?" the red-haired wizard asked warily.

"What do you think?" Hoffa replied evasively.

"Hey, Grindelwald's student," the blond wizard said groggily. "Whose side are you on? Why not just join our association?"

"The last person who called me that lost their head," Hoffa said coldly.

The blond wizard instinctively reached for his wand but was stopped by Anker. "You're unarmed now. Still so arrogant?"

Hoffa spat into the sea and sneered. "What, you think a guy terrified of bugs can intimidate me?"

"Like you don't have any weaknesses," the blond wizard shot back. "I may fear bugs, but I don't fear you."

"Then why don't you try? Talking doesn't mean much."

Flexing his fingers, Hoffa's muscles rippled under his shirt, the sharp contours of his arms and shoulders clearly visible.

"You—!"

Anker, however, stayed calm, holding the blond wizard back. "Not now. We're not at the point of life and death yet. Bach, where's LeMay? She's always with you. Why don't I see her?"

Hoffa didn't answer.

"Did you hide her? LeMay is our target, not you. Hand her over, and we'll leave you alone."

"Too bad," Hoffa said mockingly. "LeMay is my target too. If you stay away from her, I won't bother you either."

The blond wizard erupted in fury, struggling to rise. "You little brat! Don't make me teach you some respect!"

Anker shoved him back down.

"Aldo, calm down!"

"What are you waiting for? He's alone!"

"Not now. Don't make this worse for me!"

Aldo, his eyes bloodshot, finally calmed down under his companion's restraint. He adjusted his collar, snorted, and turned away.

Hoffa watched Anker with growing caution. He wasn't afraid of impulsive enemies but rather those who remained level-headed in dire situations.

"You're reasonable, but unfortunately, LeMay isn't with me. We got separated. Asking me is useless," Hoffa said.

"Is that so?" Anker squinted suspiciously. "Then what's your plan?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Anker didn't seem upset. "I have a proposal. Would you like to hear it, Mr. Bach?"

"Not interested," Hoffa replied flatly.

The red-haired wizard spoke as if to himself, "None of us has magic now, and you've seen this island—bizarre and fraught with danger. I believe we might need to cooperate if we want to survive here."

"Cooperate?" Hoffa chuckled. "What if we're halfway through this cooperation and you recover your magic first?"

The red-haired wizard replied candidly, "We might kill you, or perhaps take you to the Berlin Association Headquarters and hand you over to your mentor, Grindelwald. How we handle it depends on the situation."

"And you think I'd agree to such cooperation?"

"I suspect," the red-haired wizard analyzed calmly, almost cruelly, "that if you regained your magic first, you'd kill us without hesitation. Locking us up likely wouldn't even be an option in your playbook."

Hoffa felt a twinge of emotion. The red-haired wizard's unflinching logic made his fingers itch to rid himself of this threat. But he forced himself to resist the impulse.

The wizard wasn't wrong. Their current situation was dire—they lacked food, fresh water, and even basic shelter. The reef offered scant refuge, and a life-or-death confrontation at this point would be futile. Even if Hoffa won, the island's monstrous carnivorous insects or the blistering sun would seal his fate soon after.

"I have a small suggestion," the red-haired wizard continued. "Since our common target is LeMay, why not find her first and settle our differences afterward?"

"I can't guarantee LeMay is even on this island," Hoffa replied.

"Liar," Aldo interjected abruptly. "She was on the same ship as you."

"You've been searching for her; I assumed you'd have a better understanding of her capabilities," Hoffa mocked.

"Hmm…" The red-haired wizard stroked his chin, frowning.

"LeMay is on this island," Aldo said with certainty.

"What did you say?"

"I said LeMay is on this island," Aldo repeated.

Even his companion looked perplexed. "Have you seen her, Aldo?"

"No, but I know she's hiding somewhere on this island."

"Where exactly?"

"I don't know."

"Aldo, stop joking around, will you?"

"Why would I joke about this? It's a feeling—just like I know I hate bugs. She's here."

"What do you think, Bach?"

Hoffa frowned, his thoughts turning to the island's strange, enormous insects and its alien flora. A vague understanding flickered in his mind, but he couldn't be sure whether his intuition was real or just a passing thought. He shook his head to suppress the odd feeling.

"Fine, let's cooperate," Hoffa said. "Since we're all after LeMay, let's set aside our differences for now. If she's on this island, her situation is likely as perilous as ours."

Chloe's Perplexing Surroundings

Chloe didn't feel like she was in danger. In fact, she only found her location somewhat peculiar.

After Mary's death by terror, Chloe had once again triggered a magic outburst. However, her current location was nothing like she had anticipated—it was off by an unimaginable distance.

She had expected to wake up at sea. Instead, she found herself in a bustling white-stone square surrounded by voices and activity.

Three sides of the square were bordered by houses with steep, slate-tiled roofs. The fourth side was dominated by an imposing structure with small windows set higher than the chimneys of the nearby homes. Built from sturdy gray limestone, the building resembled a fortress or castle. Below it, the square was partially covered with market stalls, under which people bustled.

The people's attire suggested a mix of rural farmers and factory workers in suspenders and overalls. But Chloe also spotted a few men in fashionable gray double-breasted suits carrying leather briefcases.

The scene was calm and serene, completely at odds with the chaos of a wartime world.

Before she could take in more of her surroundings, a commotion drew her attention to a cluster of people not far away.

Curiosity about this unfamiliar environment led her to approach.

After pushing through the crowd, Chloe discovered a middle-aged woman lying unconscious in the center, surrounded by a scattering of poor-quality flyers.

"Is she dying?"

"Probably close to it."

"Whose family is she from?"

"She's from the Berkley family. Lost her child. Let's not get involved."

The crowd murmured among themselves, pointing fingers at the woman but making no move to help her.

Chloe's heart sank. The people were speaking German. She had no idea what was happening or where she was, but out of habit, she crouched down to pick up one of the flyers.

The flyer featured a black-and-white photo of a young boy with light-colored hair, though the exact shade was unclear.

Beneath the image was a name: Aldo Berkley.

She read the name on the flyer, but it didn't yield any useful information. So, she bent down and carefully lifted the unconscious woman.

She checked the woman's head; it was burning with fever, her skin hot to the touch, yet her limbs were cold and damp, her face pale. This woman had suffered from heatstroke, contrary to what the crowd had said—that she was beyond saving.

Chloe helped the woman to her feet, pushed through the onlookers, and brought her to a slightly cooler spot under a tree's shade.

She then went to a nearby shop, where she managed to get a glass of ice water and some salt. Thanks to her striking appearance and the habit of wearing her monastery robes, she had no trouble obtaining what she needed.

Returning to the woman, Chloe gave her the water, and soon, the woman began to stir, regaining consciousness.

"How are you feeling?"

The middle-aged woman groggily mumbled as she woke, "Did you see my child?"

"What happened to your child?"

"My child is lost. I'm looking for him here."

The woman began to feel around her body. "Where are my flyers?"

Chloe handed the stack of flyers she had taken earlier.

The woman took them and sighed in relief. "You saved me? You're so kind."

"It's nothing."

Chloe asked humbly, "May I ask, where is this place?"

"What do you mean, where?"

"Here." Chloe pointed at the ground beneath her feet.

"Berlin, child. You're confused, aren't you? You don't even know where you are."

Berlin.

Chloe stood frozen for a moment, unable to speak.

Though she had braced herself after hearing the locals speak German, hearing it confirmed like this still made her heart race.

What happened? How had her time ability brought her across such vast geography, all the way to Berlin, thousands of miles away? And Hoffa—where was he right now? Could she still save Mary?

A flood of questions and confusion filled her mind.

"What's wrong, child? Tell me, maybe I can help."

The woman beside her spoke gently.

Chloe's face twisted with distress. "I'm lost."

"Lost?"

The woman gently patted her head, sympathy in her voice. "Poor child. If you don't mind, you can stay at my house for a while."

Chloe, still dazed, couldn't think of any better options and merely nodded in confusion.

The woman led Chloe to a small house in the city, where she offered some snacks and drinks, but the nun had no appetite.

The woman sat beside her, comforting her and offering suggestions. "Where are you from? I can help you contact the National Guard, and they can take you back. It'd be even easier if we could get in touch with a monastery."

Chloe was overwhelmed, unable to eat or drink, nor could she respond.

The woman continued to talk, her words laced with worry. "My child is even younger than you. I just hope he doesn't run into any bad people out there. Sigh… My damn husband, before we divorced, he would beat him three times a day, drunk or sober, no matter what. Even when he lost money gambling, he'd hit him. Whenever he was in a bad mood, he'd do the same."

The woman's complaints flowed incessantly, as though her bitterness toward the world had no end.

Chloe, still preoccupied with thoughts of Mary and Hoffa, was slow to react. When she finally did, she suddenly stood up.

"What did you say?"

"Huh? About my terrible husband?"

The woman was startled by Chloe's sudden outburst.

"No, I meant the previous thing you said. When did you marry your husband?"

"1911…"

"And what year is it now?"

"1922. Why are you so excited?"

(End of Chapter)

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